It surely did throw her off the track.
“Billy,” she said, “that’s a queer thing to ask me.”
Then she said soberly:
“Don’t you know, Billy, there’s only one place in the world where I should want to go first?”
“Up in the country,” said Billy, growing sober, too, “where—where you got me?”
Aunt Mary simply bowed her head.
Wednesday afternoon Mr. Prescott dictated ever so many letters to Miss King. The last was one to Mrs. John Bradford in which Mr. Prescott begged that Mrs. Bradford would be so kind as to make use of the enclosed, so that he might be relieved from concern about her while Mr. Bradford was away with him.
Then Mr. Prescott took from his pocket a ticket that had on it “to” and “return.” After the “to” came a name, not very long, on the ticket, but one that, when it reached Aunt Mary’s eyes, would read, The Place of Places.
“Here,” said Mr. Prescott, “is the enclosure. Please write that letter first, Miss King. That must be posted to-night.”
That was Wednesday night. Then Mr. Prescott went home and told Billy that he must go to bed as soon as he had had his supper, so that he would be ready to start in the morning.